


Turning Over A New Leaf

by foreverinprinxietyhell



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Character Development, Character Study, Darkiplier Mark Fischbach, Escapism, Goodbyes, Grief, Heavy Angst, It's Hard and Nobody Understands, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Related, Moving On, Murder, On the Run, Responsibility, Revenge, Running Away, Who Killed Markiplier?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 23:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17192471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverinprinxietyhell/pseuds/foreverinprinxietyhell
Summary: If you enjoyed this fic, please consider tipping me via PayPal? (Ignore my dead name):https://paypal.me/MordecaiRussell





	Turning Over A New Leaf

Torn between a sense of duty and reckless abandon leaders needed to be an example for the people they were responsible for protecting, yet Damien would be lying if he did not think of leaving without a warning whatsoever. Then again, if had not been for his secret love convincing him to go along with the adrenaline fueled impulse he would not be here on the countryside, letting his sister take care of important matters he used to concern himself over.

“I know I’m supposed to be a leader in this situation, but I can’t help feeling lost…”

”Damien, my dear,” the colonel had started off after sharing in afternoon tea to have some sort of privacy away from prying eyes of the mayor’s staff who would come in at any moment unannounced, “You’re running yourself into the ground… Mayhaps it’s time for a break?”

“I can’t abandon everyone, that’d be irresponsible.”

“Let Celine take over in your absence!”

“Are you mad, William?!”

“Life needs a bit of madness,” 

“Perhaps you’re right, old friend… I’ll consider it awhile.” 

That conversation had all but disappeared when they had been invited to the Markiplier Manor; Damien had not given the idea any more thought in the midst of trying to piece together who was responsible for killing a dear, beloved friend during the impromptu celebration. He felt the darkness overwhelm him and his sister both, the void embracing them with bone chilling contempt at the events that had led to this creation. Betrayed in the end by the one he called a friend for so long he yearned only to make him pay for ripping everyone apart despite the person responsible for such cruelty had departed. This was the only way to escape as the two began growing into the new identity.

Life needed a bit of madness, but why shouldn’t death be any different?

Ha had been brought back, so why shouldn’t he take advice from when they were yet to be scathed by these permanent mental scarrings? 

“Wilford, come.” he called out in a clipped, commanding tone unlike the careful though confident wordings he used in a former lifetime, “We’ve much to do now.” 

Any guilt he felt about disappearing without a trace had been destroyed along with his former body, a cold and calculated smile cracking a pane of glass with hardly any effort before he went to retrieve the other. Chaos had been long overdue and now was the time to finally unleash it in all the gory glory that would follow, static splitting the seams in the air with every move as an elaborate flight of stairs were taken down into the foyer to collect themselves prior to punishing every last person who stood between them. 

Allowing his partner in crime to deal with physical brutality the newfound entity of two opposing halves silently observed from the shadows, waiting to give people a false sense of hope that would be stripped away in the same intake of breath. 

“Shall we get to work then?” the former war veteran asked with a gleeful giddiness, gun waved around in the air haphazardly, “I only managed to get some target practice in.” 

“You read my mind, old friend. I always did admire you not only because of that.”   
Dark intentions and reputation aside the truth was that he could not always be there for the man who needed him most even after such a traumatizing incident that had corrupted them both. Nothing would stop the other from being constantly haunted by everyone put onto his murder spree record; pulling the strings behind the scenes an untouched sliver of sanity left behind could not help wondering how any of this was supposed to help them take back control, yet this still seemed to be the only way. Survival was slim, Dark knew that all too well.

“You’re missing the point of this endeavor,” he chided coldly one evening after another clever escape from a team of less than effective investigators, “Wil, I’m afraid we cannot continue this.”

“It was an accident I-I swear!”

“To kill people on national television? They’ll be on the lookout now if they hadn’t been already.”

“”A misunderstanding at best. You know me, Dame…”

“Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in quite some time,” he remarked with a hollow huff of sinister laughter, “You are right, I know you all too well, Wil.   
I’m afraid that ends here.” 

A twist of the wrist produced a snap that echoed throughout the small room they had occupied for months now as the newest hideout, heels clacking against hardwood flooring as the distance between them was closed and followed by a lingering kiss. Stepping back a few feet he watched through hooded lashes as bright eyes dulled with confusion that sparkled with moments of clarity that only faded after seconds of trying to chase the train of thought. 

“Who are you…?”

“An old friend. That doesn’t matter anymore, I won’t be coming back.”

“Where will you go?”

“Anywhere but here,” Dark confirmed, not meeting his old companion’s gaze intentionally, “I can’t be around you anymore, this is goodbye.” 

Memories start to get jumbled after a while resulting in even the simplest of things being forgotten at some point or another; their escapades would not be on that list. Even as Dark turned on a heel and went out to face harsh howling winds that would scream louder than any sound he could produce, Learning after all these years the stories of countless people who had died in wake of seeking revenge on the world as a whole he knew the two of them were only water and oil, no matter how hard his heart ached for Wilford still they had to be separated. It was the only way. 

None of this made any sense and he supposed that was the beauty of it all despite every last sense of the word had been stained with senseless emotions that were now only a white noise. Like long ago when the idea was first proposed it was time to leave again. Life needed a bit of madness, but why shouldn’t death be any different? 

This was exactly what he needed, yet finding out for one’s self was much different than being told the same. The truth was he could not always be there, he had already been away for so long, so who would notice? 

No one, now that memories had been tampered with. It was for the best that no one remembered who he was, who he had become after such an unfair hand dealt with tarot instead of regular playing cards.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic, please consider tipping me via PayPal? (Ignore my dead name):  
> https://paypal.me/MordecaiRussell


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